Read Homecoming (A Finn McCoy Paranormal Thriller #1) Page 22

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  The woman once known as Cynthie to her doting father stood on a hill and looked over the still-sleeping town. Very soon the rest of the horde would join her. The sun would start to rise in about three hours; there was plenty of time to do what needed to be done.

  Already, some of the others were in the town, clearing the way for the main group’s advance. By the time they arrived, the police force would be either diminished or decimated. They would encounter little resistance.

  There were only two rules concerning the incursion, and she was fairly certain that they would be followed. The first was that no children would be harmed or taken. This had been law since she had first taken leadership, and it had never been violated.

  The second was that the sheriff was not to be touched. This order was puzzling to the others, but since there would be so many others to prey upon, they had not questioned it. If they had, she would not have bothered to explain herself, anyway. She had her reasons, and that was all they needed to know.

  The truth was that the sheriff was not to be harmed because the sheriff was hers. She alone would snuff out the life of the man who had allowed her to be taken, and in turn had taken everything from her.

  As for the rest of the adults, who among them was blameless? They had looked for her, but not hard enough. They had not rescued her. They had left her to fend for herself, and in that, at least, she had not failed herself. She had survived, and then thrived, and had finally dominated. But by then it had been too late. She’d thought of slipping away from the others; it would have been easy by then. She’d found, however, that she had neither the ability nor the desire to reintegrate into society. They had done nothing for her, and they had done nothing for her poor father. Both of them had been left to wither and die by the people of the town.

  But she had learned. At her direction, the others had captured an adult. They had kept the woman alive for nearly a year, and during that time Cynthia had learned the language and ways of the townspeople.

  She turned and saw the rest of the horde approaching. Down the mountain they came, ugly and malformed little creatures with nothing in their souls but hate and an insatiable appetite for blood. Watching them advance, she realized that she was just like them; maybe not outwardly, but on the inside, at least. She had become a monster. The thought occurred to her that it didn’t have to be that way, but she brushed it aside with a cold indifference. The die had been cast. Her fate was as immalleable now as it had been seventeen years ago, when she had been taken from her warm bed in the middle of the night.

  She turned her attention back to the town. Let the fools suffer. Let them know the horror she had known all those years ago. It would be justice, pure and simple.

  Justice would be coming to Shallow Springs within the hour.